The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova

Seventeen years ago, I read The Historian, a literary horror novel by Elizabeth Kostova. It made a good impression on me back then, so I pulled it out again.

Notably, I did my re-read in print. I listened an hour before abandoning the audiobook, because I do not like ensemble casts. The only exception to this rule is the audio of Lincoln in the Bardo, by George Saunders, probably the best audiobook I’ve ever listened to. And one of the best books I’ve ever read.

And I’ve been trying to bring print reading back to my life. I’m happier when I dedicate part of my day to sitting in my recliner with a book.

The Historian is about scholars pursuing Vlad Tepes, aka Vlad the Impaler, aka Dracula. It is a page-turner, which is important when your book is 600+ pages long, though I am mystified at how this is possible, considering that most of the action is set in libraries and archives. And by action I mean “academics reading letters and historical documents.” Infrequently, a vampire will pop out of the library stacks to fang someone, but mostly the characters admire architecture and read solemnly by lamplight. It shouldn’t work but it does.

More than most writers, Kostova excels at atmosphere. She brings to life various settings in Europe in the 1950s and 1970s, including the communist chill of Romania, famous for a region called Transylvania. There’s not much graphic violence in the story, but Kostova lays on the atmospheric dread almost from page one.